Cocky Flyboy by Susan Horsnell

TIM

I was awake before the new day had dawned. From where I lay with Melissa, who slept soundly in my arms, I could see through the window to a sky full of twinkling stars. There were no curtains in the suite, and the glass was one way. The window framed slivers of pink slashed across the dark sky, slicing it into sections to resemble an abstract painting. I loved pre-dawn, especially if I was piloting an aircraft and in the midst of it all.

Melissa moaned and I hugged her closer. It was going to be an incredibly stressful day for her, and it pissed me off that I couldn’t do anything to protect her.

“Stop thinking so loud.” Melissa rolled over and snuggled into my chest.

“You’re awake early, worried about today?”

“Yes, is that why you are also awake?”

“I hate that you have to be subjected to some asshole defense lawyer whose main aim is to discredit you.”

“It’s their job, sweetheart.”

I felt my smile stretch my lips.

“What?”

“That’s the first time you have used an endearment instead of my name.”

Melissa blushed. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry, I love that you feel comfortable enough to call me sweetheart.”

I pulled her closer and devoured her lips. I didn’t give a fuck about morning breath–hers or mine.

“I want to stay here in your arms all day.”

“Unfortunately, that would bring the police to take you to court forcibly. I don’t want that to happen.”

“I guess.”

“How about we get showered and dressed and I’ll take you across the road for breakfast?”

“What about Carl?”

“He’ll be doing his own thing today. I told him I’d call later in the day and let him know how things are going.”

After another lingering kiss, I drew Melissa from the bed and into the bathroom. The shower was large enough to hold four people, but I wasn’t about to pressure Melissa by sharing one with her. Yet. After securing a plastic bag over her cast, I left the bathroom to give her privacy. It was getting harder and harder to walk away when I wanted to explore every inch of her body.

I growled at my dick to settle down before heading through to the living room, where I checked my emails.

****

I rested a hand on Melissa’s back and held the door to the café open for her to enter.

When she had come out to the living room of our suite, my bottom jaw had dropped. Melissa was wearing a soft blue skirt, white blouse, and matching soft blue jacket. On her feet, she wore a killer pair of white heels. Her hair was swept up in some twist thing, but loose tendrils swept her cheeks. It was the first time I could remember her wearing makeup, and it was applied perfectly. The black liner highlighted her gorgeous eyes and the pink on her cheeks softened the slight sharpness. On her lips was a soft pink gloss. I had wanted to whisk her straight back to bed and worship every inch of her delectable body.

“Breakfast?” A young girl asked, breaking into my thoughts.

“Yes please, table for two,” I answered.

“Right this way.”

The waitress grabbed a couple of menus and we followed her to a table in the center of the room. I would have preferred somewhere more private, but the place was busy. From the looks of things, it was lucky we had been able to get a table at all.

I held the chair while Melissa sat, pushing her closer, so she was comfortable, before sitting opposite. The waitress handed us the menus and I asked for coffee while we decided what we would eat.

“It’s busy in here,” Melissa commented.

“I suppose a lot of people come here before court begins for the day. Many appear to be professionals such as lawyers and journalists. I suspect there will be a lot of interest in Jamison’s trial with him being a US senator.”

“Excuse me, is your name Melissa Hansen?”

Melissa and I both lifted our eyes to an elegant woman dressed in a black suit. She was rather petite with blonde hair and gray eyes, which appeared troubled. I estimated she was in her mid to late fifties.

“May I ask who you are?” I asked politely, expecting she was probably a journalist interested in Melissa’s case.

“Of course.” She extended a hand my way but kept her eyes on Melissa. “Brenda Jamison. Lincoln Jamison’s wife.”

I was in a daze as we shook hands. Her being Lincoln’s wife was the last thing I’d expected. I shook myself back to the present and asked the lady to have a seat. I didn’t see her as a danger to Melissa and was interested in what she might have to say. When our coffees were placed on the table, I asked Brenda if she would also like one, but she declined.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Jamison?” Melissa asked.

“Brenda, please.” She swallowed before continuing. “Is what you said in your statement the truth? Did Lincoln keep you locked up, a prisoner for eight years? Did he repeatedly…”

When Brenda found herself struggling, Melissa placed her hand on the woman’s and answered.

“Yes. Everything I wrote in the statement was the truth. I’m so very sorry.”

Brenda pulled her hand back. “Please, don’t be; you did nothing wrong. I am so very sorry this happened to you.” She pushed up from the table. “Thank you for speaking with me.” And then she was gone.

Melissa sipped at her coffee thoughtfully before setting the cup back on the saucer. “That was strange.”

“Very. I felt rather sorry for her.”

“Me too. None of this is her fault.”

We ordered breakfast waffles with maple syrup, along with another coffee, and discussed again what was likely to happen in court.

****

After a long, unhurried breakfast, I led Melissa across the street and into the courthouse. After speaking to a court officer at the inquiry desk, we were directed to take a seat while waiting for the prosecutor who had requested to speak with Melissa before the case.

Melissa had spoken at length with Nolan Bryant via video feed, but he had requested a few minutes with her in person.

After a short wait, the man whose face we knew from the video pushed through a door and came straight toward us. His arm extended toward Melissa, and after they shook, we did the same.

“Melissa, it’s very good to meet you in person at last. Nice to meet you, Tim. Please, come through to my office.”

We followed him through the door from where he had appeared and down a long hallway to an open door. Nolan stood back as we entered, then followed us in and closed the door.

“Please take a seat.”

While Nolan sat behind a large wooden desk, flanked by bookcases containing dozens of leather-bound books, Melissa and I took the two seats on the other side.

“There’s not much I need to say, we pretty much covered everything before you came out here. The prosecution team is very grateful to you, and it takes a lot of courage to stand in court and recall a story such as yours. We will all do our very best to protect you. If the defense asks anything that makes you uncomfortable, turn your eyes on one of us, and we will cut in to stop the line of questioning. There will be questions you have to answer, but we will not allow them to badger you. Is there anything you need to ask before we go inside the courtroom?”

“No. I think you have covered everything in the past two weeks. I just want it over and done with.”

“I understand.”

Nolan stood, and we joined him before following him into the courtroom. As expected, there were dozens of journalists all waiting for the dirt on a previously well-liked senator. It pissed me the fuck off that Melissa’s life was to be front-page news and splashed across the internet.

Nolan indicated Melissa needed to follow him to a table where one man and one woman sat-presumably, the rest of the prosecution team of which Nolan was lead. Before I dropped her hand, I drew her close and placed a kiss on her lips.

“I’ll be right behind you.”

“I know.”

Nolan led her to the table, and she was introduced to his colleagues before they all took a seat. I took the opportunity to glance around the courtroom. When the alarm on the metal detector at the door to the courtroom screamed loudly, I spun around to see one of the guards indicating the gun at his hip, before escorting Brenda Jamison, a purse clutched in one hand, into the room. I guessed they must know each other from the way he had one hand at her elbow as he guided her to a seat near where the accused was already seated and leaned close to say something into her ear to which she nodded solemnly.

Lincoln was looking in Melissa’s direction with a smug expression on his face. I had an overwhelming urge to cross the room and throttle the man but knew it wouldn’t do Melissa any good. Just thinking about the satisfaction I would have gained by giving him a busted nose had me smiling briefly.

“All rise.” The court officer shouted, and everyone stood.

A man in flowing judge’s robes pushed through a door at the front, climbed behind the bench, and settled himself before telling everyone in the room to take their seats.

We had no sooner resumed our seats than I saw movement from the corner of my eye. When I turned my head in the direction of Jamison, I saw his wife standing. Her arm was extended, and a pistol was in her hand. How the hell had she gotten into the room with a gun? The guard! It had to have been. The guard had automatically assumed it was his gun which had set off the metal detector. Being someone he knew; he must have overlooked any checks the rest of us had submitted to on entry.

An ominous feeling skated down my spine as all eyes in the courtroom turned toward her. You could have heard a pin drop.

“Lincoln, stand up, you asshole!”

Despite his counsel trying to keep him seated, Lincoln stood and spun around, revealing a sneer on his lips and disgust on his face.

“Brenda. Put the fucking gun down and get out.”

It was like watching a theater show, except this was deadly real. Brenda stepped forward; the gun pointed menacingly at her husband. Court security worked their way slowly along each wall, hands on the guns at their hips.

“Our daughter is the same age as this young girl, Lincoln. How could you? How the fuck could you take a seventeen-year-old off the street and keep her prisoner for eight years? EIGHT. FUCKING. YEARS. She couldn’t even watch a television program. You shoved your fucking dick where it wasn’t wanted.”

As Brenda railed, her eyes wild, she moved closer. The defense counsel stepped off to the sides, not wanting to be in her line of fire.

“SHE WAS YOUR DAUGHTER’S AGE! YOU’RE A FUCKING MONSTER!”

The sound of the gun being fired was deafening in the confines of the room. I watched in disbelief as the first bullet hit Jamison in the balls at point-blank range. As he screamed bloody murder, the next bullet she fired found its mark–dead center in his forehead. He dropped to the floor like a dead weight.

Brenda threw the gun to the floor and held her hands in the air. Security moved in immediately and cuffs were slapped in place as the courtroom erupted in chaos. Flashes from cameras lit up the room.

Before she was led from the room, Brenda requested a word to the judge. A request that was granted.

“You want to know why judge? Because I knew… I knew you would let him walk. I have no faith in our justice system, and I was not going to allow him to get his filthy claws into another young girl—to destroy another young life.”

I felt a degree of respect for what the lady had done, even though taking matters into one’s hands set an extremely dangerous precedence.

As Brenda was led away, the journalists focused on firing questions at her. My only goal was getting to Melissa and ensuring she remained safe.

When I approached, she flung herself into my arms, and I assured her everything was okay. Nolan directed us to follow him back to his office, and with him leading the way, the rest of his team protecting us from behind, we made it safely to the room where we had been earlier.

Once we were all safely inside, Nolan closed the door. I kept Melissa in my arms. He introduced me to the rest of the team–Kerry and Malcolm.

“Well, I did not see that coming.” Nolan paced, his fingers running through his hair.

“She spoke to us at breakfast.” Melissa’s words had the legal team snapping their heads toward her. “She wanted to know if what I said in my statement was the truth. I told her it was, and after saying she was sorry, she left.”

“There was no mention about her shooting her husband?” Nolan asked.

“None at all.”

“What does this mean for Melissa now?” I asked.

“There are still the trials for Beaufort, Findlay and Cross. Melissa won’t be required for Cross as she was unaware he even existed. She will need to testify to Beaufort and Findlay’s appearances in the apartment. Those trials aren’t scheduled to be heard for another three months, so you can return to New York.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. The worst was over. Melissa would not be raked over the coals in front of the majority of Springfield’s media. Hopefully, there would be less interest in Beaufort and Findlay’s trials.

Melissa raised her eyes to mine. “Take me home.”

I looked to Nolan and he nodded.

After we shook hands with the team, thanking them for everything they had done, I wrapped an arm around Melissa’s waist, and we headed back to the hotel.